dk.nightchills-第20部分

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　〃Jenny…〃
　〃I'd　like　to　taste　it。〃
　As　she　spoke　the　soft　center　of　him　swelled　and　grew　hard。
　〃Defeated　by　biology；〃　she　said。　〃You're　a　minx。〃
　She　laughed　and　started　to　sit　up。　He　pushed　her　back。
　〃I　want　to　taste　it；〃　she　said。　〃Later。〃
　〃Now。〃
　〃I　want　to　get　you　off　first。〃　〃And　do　you　always　get　your　way？〃　〃I　will　this　time。　I'm　bigger　than　you。〃　〃Male　chauvinist。〃
　〃If　you　say　so。〃　He　kissed　her　nipples；　shoulders；　hands；　her
　navel　and　thighs。　He　rubbed　his　nose　gently　back　and　forth　in　the　crinkled　hair　at　the　base　of　her　belly。
　A　shiver　passed　through　her。　She　said；　〃You're　right。　A　woman　should　have　her　pleasure　first。〃
　He　lifted　his　head　and　smiled　at　her。　He　had　a　charming；　almost　boyish　smile。　His　eyes　were　so　clear；　so　blue；　and　so　warm　that　she　felt　as　if　she　were　being　absorbed　by　them。
　What　a　delightful　man　you　are；　she　thought　as　the　voices　of　the　mountain　faded　away　and　her　heartbeat　replaced　them。　So　beautiful；　so　desirable；　so　tender　for　a　man。　So　very　tender。
　The　house　was　on　Union　Road；　one　block　from　the　town　square。　A　white　frame　bungalow。　Nicely　kept。　Windows　trimmed　in　green　with　matching　shutters。　Railed　front　porch　with　bench　swing　and　glider　and　bright　green　floor。　Latticework　festooned　with　ivy　at　one　end　of　the　porch；　a　wall　of　lilac　bushes　at　the　other　end。　Brick　walkway　with　borders　of　marigolds　on　each　side。　A　white　ceramic　birdbath　ringed　with　petunias。　According　to　the　sign　that　hung　on　a　decorative　lamppost　at　the　end　of　the　walk；　the　house　belonged　to　〃The　Macklins。〃
　At　one　o'clock　that　afternoon；　Salsbury　climbed　the　three　steps　to　the　porch。　He　was　carrying　a　clipboard　with　a　dozen　sheets　of　paper　fixed　to　it。　He　rang　the　bell。
　Bees　hummed　in　the　lilac　leaves。
　The　woman　who　opened　the　door　surprised　him。　Perhaps　because　of　the　flowers　that　had　been　planted　everywhere　and　because　of　the　pristine　condition　of　the　property　that　seemed　the　work　of　a　singularly　fussy　person；　he　had　expected　the　Macklins　to　be　an　elderly　couple。　A　skinny　pair　who　liked　to　putter　in　their　gardens；　who　had　no　grandchildren　to　spend　their　time　with；　who　would　stare　suspiciously　at　him　over　the　rims　of　their　bifocals。　However；　the　woman　who　answered　the　bell　was　in　her　middle　twenties；　a　slender　blonde　with　the　kind　of　face　that　looked　good　in　magazine　advertisements　for　cosmetics。　She　was　tall；　five　eight　or　nine；　not　delicate　but　feminine；　as　leggy　as　a　chorus　girl。　She　was　wearing　dark　blue　shorts　and　a　blue…and…
　white　polka…dot　halter　top。　Even　through　the　screen　door；　he　could　see　that　her　body　was　well　proportioned；　firm；　resilient；　better　than　any　he　had　ever　touched。
　As　usual；　confronted　with　a　woman　like　one　of　those　who　had　peopled　his　fantasies　all　of　his　adult　life；　he　was　unsettled。　He　stared　at　her　and　licked　his　lips　and　couldn't　think　of　a　damned　thing　to　say。
　〃Can　I　help　you？〃
　He　cleared　his　throat。　〃My　name's…Albert　Deighton。　I've　been　in　town　since　last　Friday。　I　don't　know　if　you　heard　。
　I'm　doing　some　research。　Sociological　research。　I've　been　talking　to　people…〃
　〃I　know；〃　she　said。　〃You　were　next　door　at　the　Solomans'　yesterday　afternoon。〃
　〃That's　right。〃　Although　the　sun　was　hot　and　the　air　heavy；　he　hadn't　perspired　during　any　of　the　first　three　interviews　of　the　day；　but　now　he　felt　beads　of　sweat　spring　up　on　his　forehead。　〃I'd　like　to　talk　with　you　and　Mr。　Mackin；　if　you　can　spare　me　the　time。　Half　an　hour　ought　to　be　enough。　There　are　about　a　hundred　questions…〃
　〃I'm　sorry；〃　she　said。　〃My　husband　isn't　home。　He　works　up　at　the　mill　on　the　day　shift。　He　won't　be　home　till　five　thirty。〃
　He　looked　at　his　clipboard　for　something　to　do。　〃I　can　always　catch　him　some　other　time。　If　I　could　interview　you　and　the　children　now；　get　that　out　of　the　way…〃
　〃Oh；　we've　only　been　married　a　year。　We　haven't　any　kids。〃
　〃Newlyweds。〃
　〃Just　about。〃　She　smiled。　She　had　dimples。
　He　felt　as　if　he　were　being　dragged　along　in　a　dangerous　current；　swept　inexorably　toward　a　decision　that　could　destroy　him。　〃Is　there　anyone　else　living　here？　A　relative？〃
　〃Just　Richie　and　me。〃
　〃Richie's　your　husband？〃
　〃That's　right。〃
　Last　Friday；　in　Ultman's　Cafe；　he　had　risked　exposing　the　entire　project　by　using　the　code　phrase　to　play　with　that　waitress　who　looked　like　Miriam。　He　had　gotten　away　with　it；　but　he
　knew　he　was　a　fool　to　allow　his　emotions　to　overwhelm　him　like　that。　As　penance　for　his　behavior；　he　was　far　more　cautious　on　Saturday　and　Sunday　than　he　needed　to　be。　He　used　the　code　phrase　two　dozen　times；　interviewing　the　subjects　in　detail；　searching　for　weak　spots　in　their　obedient　mode；　but　he　never　approached　one　of　them　if　there　was　the　slimmest　chance　of　discovery。　Some　of　the　women　had　been　attractive；　and　he　could　have　used　them　any　way　he　wanted。　But　he　had　restrained　himself。　Having　tasted　total　dominance　when　he　opened　Alice；　that　bitch　waitress；　with　the　code；　he　was　anxious　to　make　one　of　them　undress　and　get　down　on　the　floor　before　him。　Damned　anxious。　And　this　one；　standing　there　in　shorts　and　halter；　seemed　to　radiate　heat　that　evaporated　his　will　power　and　his　caution。　He　wanted　to　believe　that；　unlike　the　episode　at　the　café；　this　situation　contained　no　threat；　and　wanting　to　believe　was　the　first　step　toward　convincing　himself。
　〃I　am　the　key。〃
　〃I　am　the　lock。〃
　Relieved；　he　wiped　his　brow。　〃Are　you　alone？〃
　〃Yes。〃
　He　began　to　tremble；　not　with　fear　but　with　excitement。　〃Are　you　expecting　anyone？〃
　〃No。　No　one。〃
　〃Is　anyone　expecting　you？　Were　you　planning　to　go　visiting？〃
　〃No。〃
　〃Let　me　in。〃
　She　pushed　open　the　screen　door。
　He　stepped　past　her　into　the　air…conditioned　foyer。　There　was　an　oval　mirror　and　accessory　table　on　the　right；　a　small　painting　of　a　storm…tossed　sailing　ship　on　his　left。　〃Close　the　door。　And　lock　it。〃
　She　did　as　she　was　told。
　A　short　corridor；　containing　two　more　paintings　of　sailing　ships；　led　from　the　foyer　to　the　kitchen。
　On　the　left　the　living　room　opened　to　the　hail　through　an　archway。　It　was　neatly　furnished。　An　oriental　carpet。　Two　Crushed　velvet　sofas　and　a　slate…topped　coffee　table　arranged　to
　form　a　conversation　corner。　Matching　crushed…velvet　drapes　at　the　three　windows。　A　magazine　rack。　A　gun　case。　Two　Stiffel　lamps。　To　harmonize　with　the　carpet；　the　paintings　were　of　Western　sailing　ships　docked　in　Chinese　harbors。
　〃Draw　the　drapes；〃　he　said。
　She　went　from　window　to　window；　then　came　back　to　the　center　of　the　room。　She　stood　with　her　hands　at　her　sides；　staring　at　him；　a　half…smile　on　her　face。
　She　was　waiting。　'Waiting　for　orders。　His　orders。　She　was　his　puppet；　his　slave。
　For　more　than　a　minute　he　stood　in　the　archway；　unable　to　move；　unable　to　decide　what　he　should　do　next。　Immobilized　by　fear；　anticipation；　and　the　grip　of　lust　that　made　his　groin　ache　almost　unpleasantly；　he　was　nevertheless　sweating　as　if　he　had　just　run　the　mile。　She　was　his。　Entirely　his：　her　mouth；　breasts；　ass；　legs；　cunt；　every　inch　and　fold　of　her。　Better　than　that；　there　was　no　need　for　him　to　worry　about　whether　or　not　he　pleased　her。　The　only　consideration　was　his　own　pleasure。　If　he　told　her　that　she　loved　it；　she　would　love　it。　No　plaints　afterward。　No　recriminations。　Just　the　act…and　then　to　hell　with　her。　Here；　ready　for　the　first　time　to　use　a　woman　exactly　as　he　wanted；　he　found　the　reality　more　exhilarating　than　the　dreams　he'd　had　so　many　years　to　elaborate　upon。
　She　regarded　him　quizzically。　〃Is　that　all？〃
　〃No。〃　His　voice　was　hoarse。
　〃What　do　you　want？〃
　He　went　to　the　nearest　lamp；　switched　it　on；　and　sat　down　on　one　of　the　sofas。　〃You　stand　where　you　are；〃　he　said。　〃Answer　my　questions　and　do　what　I　say。〃
　〃All　right。〃
　〃What's　your　name？〃
　〃Brenda。〃
　〃How　old　are　you；　Brenda？〃
　〃Twenty…six。〃
　He　took　his　handkerchief　from　his　hip　pocket；　wiped　his　face。　He　looked　at　the　paintings　of　sailing　ships。　〃Your　husband　likes　the　sea？〃
　〃Then　he　likes　paintings　of　the　sea。〃
　〃No。　He　doesn't　care　for　them。〃
　He　had　only　been　talking　to　pass　time　while　he　decided　how　he　wanted　to　proceed　with　her。　Now；　her　unexpected　answer　confused　him。　〃Then　why　the　hell　do　you　have　all　these　paintings？〃
　〃I　was　born　and　raised　in　Cape　Cod。　I　love　the　sea。〃
　〃But　he　doesn't　care　for　it。　Why　does　he　let　you　hang　these　damned　things　everywhere？〃
　〃He　knows　I　like　them；〃　she　said。
　He　wiped　his　face　again；　put　the　handkerchief　away。　〃He　knows　if　he　took　them　off　the　wall；　you'd　freeze　him　out　in　bed。　Wouldn't　you；　Brenda？〃
　〃Of　course　not。〃
　〃You　know　you　would；　you　little　bitch。　You're　a　pretty　little　piece。　He'd　do　anything　to　keep　you　happy。　Any　man　would。　Men　have　been　running　to　do　your　bidding　since　you　were　old　enough　to　fuck。　You　snap　your　fingers；　and　they　dance。　Don't　they？〃
　Puzzled；　she　shook　her　head。　〃Dance？　No。〃
　He　laughed　bitterly。　〃A　game　of　semantics。　You　know　I　didn't　really　mean　'dance。'　You're　like　all　the　others。　You're　a　bitch；　Brenda。〃
　She　squinted。　Frowned。
　〃I　say　you're　a　bitch。　Am　I　right？〃　Her　frown　vanished。　〃Yes。〃
　〃I'm　always　right。　Isn't　that　true？〃　〃Yes。　You're　always　right。〃
　〃What　am　I？〃
　〃You're　the　key。〃
　〃What　are　you？〃
　〃I'm　the　lock。〃
　He　was　feeling　better　by　the　minute。　Not　so　tense　as　he　had　been。　Not　so　jittery。　Calm。　In　control。　As　he'd　never　been。　He　pushed　his　glasses　up　on　his　nose。　〃You'd　like　me　to　strip　you　naked　and　screw　you。　Wouldn't　you　like　that；　Brenda？〃
　She　hesitated。
　〃You'd　like　it；〃　he　said。
　〃I'd　like　it。〃
　〃You'd　love　it。〃
　〃I'd　love　it。〃
　〃Take　off　your　halter。〃
　Reaching　behind　her　back；　she　slipped　the　knot；　and　the　polka…dot　cloth　fell　to　her　feet。　The　flesh　beneath　was　white；　in　stark　and　erotic　contrast　to　her　dark　tan。　Her　breasts　were　neither　large　nor　small；　but　exquisitely　curved；　upthrust。　A　few　freckles。　Pink　nipples　not　much　darker　than　her　untanned　skin。　She　kicked　the　halter　out　of　her　way。
　〃Touch　them；〃　he　said。
　〃My　breasts？〃
　〃Squeeze　them。　Pull　on　the　nipples。〃　He　watched；　found　her　movements　too　mechanical；　and　said；　〃You're　horny；　Brenda。　You　want　to　be　fucked。　You　can't　wait　to　have　me。　You　need　it。　You　want　it。　You　want　it　more　than　you've　ever　wanted　it　in　your　life。　You're　almost　sick　with　wanting　it。〃
　As　she　continued　to　caress　herself；　her　nipples　swelled　and　turned　a　darker　shade　of　pink。　She　was　breathing　heavily。
　He　giggled。　He　couldn't　suppress　it。　He　felt　terrific。　So　terrific。　〃Take　off　your　shorts。〃
　She　did。
　〃And　your　panties。　You're　a　real　blonde；　I　see。　Now；　put　one　hand　between　those　pretty　legs。　Finger　yourself。　That's　it。　That's　good。　That's　a　good　girl。〃
　Standing；　her　feet　wide　apart；　masturbating；　she　was　a　stunning　sight。　She　threw　back　her　head；　golden　hair　trailing　like　a　banner；　mouth　open；　face　slack。　She　was　gasping　for　breath。　Shivering。　Twitching。　Moaning。　With　her　free　hand；　she　was　still　caressing　her　breasts。
　The　power。　Good　God；　the　power　he　had　over　them　now；　would　always　have　over　them；　from　this　day　forward！　He　could　e　into　their　homes；　into　their　most　sacred　and　private　places；　and　once　inside　do　whatever　he　wished　with　them。　And　not　just　with　the　women。　Men　too。　If　he　ordered　it　of　them；　the　men
　would　mewl　and　crawl　to　him　on　their　hands　and　knee